What Is Scary
by ShinyTogeticFTW
Summary: A short story about a girl who struggles with life and discovers what is scary. Jessica has problems, just like anyone; problems with her mom, problems with her peers... Faced with all this trouble, how can she move forward with her life? Can she at all?


What is Scary

My name is Jessica. This… is my story.

It all started about ten years ago, when I was just a little kid. I suppose I was eight years old when it happened, but… it seems as though it was not even that long ago. I suppose it's called denial; that's what my mom says. What does my father say, you ask? …That's the point. I'll never be able to hear what he would say.

In my mind, no time has passed since that day. This whole time my life has been… pointless. It's like I'm just going through the motions, you know? Not even alive, but not yet dead. …Death… is a scary thing. Or is it? I don't know. Life is scary; there is so much to deal with, so much… so much pain. …Pain… is a scary thing. Or is it?

* * *

"I don't care!" I told my mother again.

"Please, just talk to me," she pleaded, "I can help-"

"No you can't!" I screamed, "You don't understand! You could never understand!"

"What can't I understand?" she asked. I knew she was trying to get me to talk about it by acting dumb; I wasn't going to let that get me.

"Just forget it!" I shouted, stomping off to my room. I paused for only a moment, just to shut the door, and saw my mom standing there, frozen in place. She hadn't moved; she just stood there staring at me, with tears welling up in her eyes.

"Please…" she whispered, and although I couldn't hear her, I could read her lips because she had said it so slowly.

"No!" I yelled, and as I slammed the door I felt a certain satisfaction at the pained look on her face. "Good riddance," I muttered. Turning around, I slumped down onto my bed, catching a glimpse of my reflection in my bedroom mirror. I looked horrible: my hair was all tousled and sticking to my face because of the sweat drops streaming down my cheeks. Wait, that _was _sweat, right? But then, why wasn't my forehead wet? Why was it just my cheeks? I got up to look again; I wasn't sweating at all, I was… crying?

"No…" I said aloud, and I heard my voice echo back at me from the other side of the room. It sounded so… so broken… as if I were crying… "Heh, yeah right!" I said as I laid my throbbing, aching head on my pillow. "I never cry. I'm not stupid, I know if I cried, it would ruin my… ruin my…" I paused, thinking about what my reflection had shown.

"My makeup!" I cried, sitting bolt upright to look closer in my mirror. "It's… it's…!" I sputtered in shocked disbelief as I brought my hands up to my face… It was… it really was… My mascara was streaked across from my eyes to my ears… my blush was being washed down into a big clump near my chin... my blemish cream had been completely dissolved by tears, leaving my blackheads as clear as day, pockmarking my formerly lovely cheeks… There was no denying it: I was ugly again!

I was supposed to go shopping with the girls today, but… what would they say if they saw me like this? That was why I wore makeup, so that I wouldn't look like my horrible, ugly self. There was no way, _no_ way that I could go looking like this… but I couldn't just not show up, I'd be out of the loop! I _had_ to go, but… we had all agreed to meet at seven, and it was already quarter of; there was absolutely _no_ way now that I could fix my face and do my hair and everything and still be ready in time! What… what would I do?

* * *

This is the point in my life where I changed forever. Looking back on what I did… I wonder why I did it. It was so extreme, so… irrevocable. I was so consumed by my pain, it clouded my judgment. My mother understood the feelings that haunted me, unchecked and festering in my heart, but I was too stubborn to admit that I was even affected. If only I had swallowed my pride and just let it all out, maybe… maybe I would still be here today.

* * *

"Why?" I thought to myself, "Why didn't I just go through with it? I hesitated… if I hadn't, I wouldn't be feeling all of this pain!" I gasped futilely for breath, tormented and agonized by the hemorrhaging within my chest, but it was too hard.

I must've blacked out, because the next thing I knew I was lying under a bright light, dimly aware of voices around me and an erratic beeping in the background. I couldn't open my eyes so I just lay there, struggling for death, while my body was struggling for life. I willed myself to just let go, to end my pain once and for all… I held my breath, cutting off the flow of essential oxygen to my brain and heart. The voices grew fainter, and the beeping became more incessant, but that sound too faded from my ears. As these sounds grew faint, so too did the pain – but only the physical pain; what remained was the emotional pain, which I had felt continuously since that horrible day when my father had moved to the other side of the country after divorcing my mother… and me.

* * *

I thought that my father had left because he didn't care about me… but boy, was I wrong. Although he no longer loved my mother, he still loved me… but I never knew that while I lived. …Life… is a scary thing. Or is it? It seemed so to me, but… who am I to judge, since I no longer have any? Pain is scary; I felt so much, it drove me to the brink, and the ultimate bad decision, to cause my own death. …Death… is a scary thing. Or is it? Now that I have experienced it, I cannot say. I once thought it was, but now… it seems the same as my life always was; empty… meaningless… eternal suffering. If only… but no, it's too late; I never knew Jesus before I died, and now I will never see him… There are no windows here; I cannot see into Heaven from my new permanent home… in Hell.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
Sadly, this story is one that plays out far too often in real life; it's a terrible shame, because the truth is that there is help out there for people like Jessica. If anyone reading this has gone through a situation similar to this in any way, know that Jesus does care about you, and He would wrap you in His arms and comfort your sorrows if you would only turn to Him. He loves you, just as He loves Jessica; the difference is that she didn't know that He was there and you do. Jesus is right there with you as you read these words, and He would love to be a part of your life. All you have to do is accept Him, welcome Him into your heart, tell Him all of your troubles and He will help you to bear them.**


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